Heathens
by BryceWrites
Summary: Locked in a psyche ward, Clare can't remember her own name most days past the sound of the three voices bickering inside her brain. She doesn't remember who she is; she doesn't even remember anything before she was locked up in this cement room. But when the Winchesters show up, will she get the death she wants so desperately, or can they save her before it's too late?


_Kill yourself._

 _Why don't we get to have music anymore?_

 _I can find us music._

 _Just go die._

 _Go find music, that'll help._

I laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The medication they gave me was supposed to make the voices go away or at least make them less. It never did. It just made my body go numb to all other feelings. I couldn't think past their voices, I couldn't hear anything else but the three different, distinct voices rattling around in my brain.

They talked so often and so frequently, I couldn't remember what my own voice sounded like. I could hardly hear the guards or the medical staff over the voices, usually just nodding along. I was sure they thought they had the dosage right, but I had no way of telling them they didn't because I couldn't think past the voices.

 _All my friends are heathens, take it slow. Wait for them to ask you who you know. Please don't make any sudden moves. You don't know the half of the abuse._

The nurses had taken away my radio when I'd smashed it to pieces. I'd taken one of the internal bits and tried to cut my wrists with it. Pain was the only thing that made the voices stop. When I couldn't take the voices anymore, arguing back and forth, I'd bang my head on the concrete wall. Not hard enough to damage anything, but just enough that it hurt, just enough for the voices to recede inside my head and fall silent.

"All my friends are heathens, take it slow." Singing helped too, when the voices could give me lyrics to follow. They usually were quiet while I sang to myself, so I mumbled the lyrics over and over, aching for the quietness it brought.

 _Why does she just sing one verse over and over again?_

 _Probably so she doesn't have to listen to your goddamn voice._

 _Can you guys stop arguing for once? She needs the quiet._

 _Nobody needs the quiet!_

 _Besides, my voice is refreshing compared to you two!_

 _This wouldn't be a problem if she just killed herself already._

 _If she died, nobody would hear us._

 _That's fine with me if I never had to listen to you talk again._

"Wait for them to ask you who you know." I mumbled, feeling myself rock back and forth on the bed. "Please don't make any sudden moves. You don't know the half of the abuse."

They quieted down while I mumbled the song that played along inside my head. I knew the guards watched me closely when I sang; I could almost feel the cameras trained on me. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't do anything about it. I had no way of getting rid of the voices.

 _Who's this, wandering the halls?_

 _Is that a Winchester I smell?_

 _He's got a gun! We can kill ourselves finally!_

 _What? No! Let's blow this popsicle stand!_

 _Why is there a Winchester here?_

 _Jesus, do you think he's figured it out?_

I didn't know who they were talking about. I could hardly hold onto the name, mumbling more lyrics to try to get them to quiet back down. I couldn't remember the last time I thought for myself, struggling to make sense of my head past the voices I'd been plagued with. I couldn't even remember how long it had been. Six months? A year? Five years?

My own name nearly sounded foreign in my head and I couldn't remember if the doctors had put me under it in this ward or not. I remembered this ward was different from the last one, but I felt like there was a span of time in between that was blank to me.

 _God, Winchesters always smell so good._

 _I just wanna eat him up!_

 _If we make her eat him, does that make her a cannibal too?_

 _Nah, that doesn't count._

"All my friends are heathens, take it slow." I murmured, covering my ears like it might help tune out the voices. I hated them talking about eating people. I hated hearing them discuss which part of a person was the best for barbequing or frying.

 _Oh! He wants to talk to us._

 _He's not talking to us, you idiot. He's talking to her._

 _It's the same thing, right?_

 _Well, if we possessed her…_

 _But we didn't possess her because we can't control her._

"Wait for them to ask you who you know." I could feel the tears slip down my face as I rocked back and forth. I didn't want to hear them talking anymore. I didn't want to know anything else.

The door across from the bed slid open and I felt myself shaking my head, praying they'd go away.

A nurse moved towards me with a guard standing at the door. "Come now, child. You've got a visitor."

I didn't fight her as she hauled me off my feet with the guard's help. The voices turned to a low murmur among themselves, making a dull echo in my head, their words never actually being clear enough for me to understand.

They set me at a table in the observation room and handcuffed my wrists to the chair. I went back to rocking to and from, mumbling what I could remember of the song they'd brought back for me. The words were already slipping away from me, the way they always did after I repeated them for the hundredth time.

A man in a black suit opened the door and moved to sit across from me. I couldn't stop rocking in the chair, feeling like something inside me would explode if I stopped moving.

"I'm Agent Nelson. I just wanted to ask you a few questions." He spoke.

I continued rocking back and forth. I couldn't bring myself to lift my head to look at his face, my focus staying on the table, trying desperately to hear him through the haze of voices.

"Can you hear me?" He asked.

I leaned back in the chair, flexing my arms, hoping I could squeeze my hands through the cuffs to scratch my arms or throw myself against the wall. The voices continued to whisper, filling my head with endless noise.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Christo?" He asked.

" _Bardus hominis. Vos autem adolebitque._ " I coughed out, feeling the words come from a voice not my own.

The man straightened in his chair and started to stand up when something inside me latched onto him.

"Help me." I begged, looking up at his face for the first time. "The voices, please. I can't listen to them anymore. Kill me."

"Kill you?" He said, like he hadn't heard me right. "What do they say?"

I struggled, shaking my head. "Stupid mortal thinks he knows what's good for him. I bet he really likes that meat suit he's walking around in. It'd look better on me. Do you think she's telling him about us? She went awful quiet. She's always quiet, you idiot. Well if you'd stop talking."

I gasped, trying to reel the voices back into my head. If I let them go for too long, I would lose control of them and they'd take over without knowing it. I groaned, pushing myself against my bonds, feeling my head pound and ache. "Please." I choked, not being able to look at him again.

"I'm gonna get you out of here." He told me, leaning over the table a little.

"Can we eat him and wear his meat suit at the same time? I've been hungry for so long. I bet he's delicious."

I knew the words came out of my mouth, but I hadn't been the one to say them. I tried to choke back the words. I'd let them talk for too long. I had to reel them back in and I started to rock again in the chair. "Kill me." I begged, searching the room for him again.

I could feel the pull of the pistol hidden in his waist band like I was a magnet for it. One bullet and all this pain would be gone forever.

"I'll get you out of here and I'll save you, but not like that." He told me sternly and part of me felt disappointed.

That was the only way to save me; blow my brains out or let me bleed out. There was no highway option.

After he left, the nurses came to return me to my cell. The concrete room was almost as painful as hearing any of them talk. I sat with my back to the door, scratching at the cement with my finger nail. It'd been bleeding for a while, but it wasn't enough to kill me, so I didn't worry about it.

The Latin phrases floated in and out of my head like memories of a life I never lived. I knew them because of their avid repetition, but I had never known them before. The word I was working on now was only four letters, but it was the most meaningful word in the dictionary to me. _Mors._

I heard the door open behind me, but I didn't move. I didn't know what time it was, but I vaguely wondered if it was after dark.

 _I can almost smell Winchester again!_

 _You're on drugs, idiot._

 _Go die._

 _She's quiet again._

"All my friends are heathens, take it slow." I mumbled, scratching at the wall.

"Doctor Clarisse Maloney?"

I paused. That name… that name sounded so familiar…

"Clare?"

I turned around on the bed. Two men stood in jeans and flannel, one of them had been the man from earlier in the suit. "That's a pretty name."

One of the men smirked, the shorter one, he'd been the one in the suit earlier. "Yeah it is."

"Clare, where did you hear that song you were singing a minute ago?" The tall one asked.

"The voices give me songs sometimes so I don't have to listen to them talk." I told him.

 _Is she talking about us?_

 _Why are they both here?_

 _It's never good to have more than one Winchester in the room._

 _Do you think they know about us?_

 _They're probably just trying to save a crazy girl._

 _If she just killed herself already…_

"Have you heard that song before today?" The shorter one asked.

I shook my head, trying to decide if I'd seen the taller one's face before.

"Because it was just released for the first time today." The taller one spoke.

"They took away my radio because I tried to kill myself with it." I told them, tilting my head to see if they looked any different.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" The shorter one asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder with a kind of smirk that made me question if we were still in the psyche ward.

I smiled, shaking my head. "Only in a body bag."

The taller one's face seemed to twist and contort. "You're not dying."

"Sam." The shorter one said harshly before turning back to me. "Clare, we can help you get rid of those voices in your head, but you've got to come with us."

I reached my hand out for him and when he took it, I yanked on his arm, pulling him closer until I could sit up on my knees and whisper in his ear. "The only way to get rid of the voices is to send a bullet through that shiny .45 of yours and paint this room with my brains."

"How did you know it's a .45" He asked carefully.

"Because the voices told me." I said, letting go of him to fall back on the bed.

"Dean, we don't have time for this." Sam, the tall one, said.

The shorter one, Dean, turned back to me. "Clare?"

I looked over at him. He was much taller when I was laying down.

"If I promise to get rid of the voices, will you come with me?" I watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he was being honest or not. I liked that talking to him made the voices almost go away. "I can't promise it's gonna be easy, but I need you to trust me."

I looked from Dean to Sam and back. Dean held out his hand and I watched it for a moment. "It's okay if it's not easy as long as they go away." I told him, taking his hand.

He smiled, looking from me to Sam and giving me a yank off the bed and onto my feet.

They moved out of the room. Dean still held onto my hand and I wondered if he thought I might hurt him.

 _Are we getting out?_

 _Why is she going with the Winchesters?_

 _Well this isn't very good._

 _I told you we should've made her kill herself._

 _Shit there's guards._

 _Go left._

"Left." I murmured, hearing the directions as we got to an intersection in the halls.

"What? No. We came in from the right." Dean said.

"Guards." I told him, looking him in the eye when he turned back around.

He hesitated, looking over my head at Sam.

Sam moved into the intersection before nodding his head and gesturing to the left, the way I'd described. We moved around the corner and pressed against the wall.

 _Don't go down the hall._

 _It loops back around._

 _Count to fifteen._

 _Then go the way the guards came from._

 _I feel like we're in a pyscho thriller spy movie._

"Count to fifteen then go back the way the guards came from." I spoke quietly to Dean.

He looked at me like he wanted to believe me, but something was stopping him from it. "Does this happen a lot?"

"The voices giving directions or breaking outta dodge?" I grinned at him.

He smirked like he couldn't help it. "Directions."

I nodded. "All the time. Usually to kill myself, but I haven't figured that out yet. Time's up."

He'd never let go of my hand, so I gripped it harder, pulling him along after me. I heard Sam harshly whisper to his brother, but I was too busy watching our way.

"Sam, go open the doors to B Block. That's where they keep the insomniacs and the fire starters. Guard station at the end of the hall, black button, red button, then hit the alarm and radio it in. That'll clear out this side of the ward and we can practically sneak out the front door." I told him with a smile.

Dean gave a tug on my hand, turning me around. "If you knew how to get out of here the whole time, why didn't you?"

"I'm safer in a padded room than somewhere I can hurt people." I told him, the smile feeling good on my face.

"Dean." Sam spoke, looking unsure.

"Do as she says. If nothing else, we gotta get out of here alive. Go!" He said, shooing off the taller man. "What about us?"

"You got a lighter?" I grinned.

Dean looked at me oddly, digging in his pockets until he produced a zippo.

I smiled, taking it from him. "We're gonna start some fires."

"You just wanna burn something, don't you?" He asked with a little smirk.

"All part of the diversion!" I smiled, taking his hand again and dragging him down the hall. We made a left and a right and another right.

I tore a strip of fabric about two inches wide off the bottom of my shirt and wrapped it up into a little ball of fabric. I took the lighter from Dean and waited until I could hear the doors systematically open. The alarm blared and I lit the ball of scrap on fire, giving it as good a throw into the middle of the hall as I could before quickly handing Dean the lighter.

 _She's fucking insane._

 _Well, duh. She hears three different voices in her head._

 _Is she really breaking out of here?_

 _Shit! Guards. Right!_

I gripped Dean's arm and tugged him hard into an alcove on the right side of the hall. He wore darker clothes so I pulled him against my front, bringing us inches away from each other. Three guards stormed by, yelling at each other and the patents who were moving out of their cells.

"This might be really hot if we weren't trying to get out of here." Dean murmured, glancing up and down at me.

I smirked, leaning forward to give him a peck on the lips before I pushed him away, still holding his hand and heading back down the hall to where I'd sent Sam off too.

We nearly ran into Sam at the intersection and I clapped him on his back. "Okay, we should-"

 _Guards!_

 _Left!_

 _Now, bitch!_

I grabbed both of them and scrambled left, pushing the door for the observatory closed right before guards came around the corner with two doctors.

 _Jesus. Back door!_

 _It's clear!_

 _Would you hurry up already?_

"Back door. It's clear. Go." I whispered, turning around and pushing on both the men. Dean pushed me in front of him, Sam leading the way. I navigated them to the set of double locked doors at the back of the hospital.

"Eighteen, twenty-four, six, one." I told them, turning to keep watch while Sam worked quickly at the lock.

 _They heard you!_

 _They're coming!_

 _Ten seconds!_

I turned to Dean. "They heard us. They're coming."

Sam got the lock undone and Dean grabbed my arm, dragging me out the door behind him, Sam locking it behind us in the nick of time. We raced across the parking lot and they shoved me into the back seat of an old car before Dean pulled out onto the road.

 _Are we free?_

 _Did we do it? Did we get out?_

 _We're fucked. We're taken hostage by the Winchesters._

 _They don't know we're here yet. We're fine._

I ignored the voices, watching out the car window. The trees were pretty and the sky was speckled with something shiny. "And when I die before the sun breaks the ridge, let them know I died happy in the peacefulness of the night; wrapped in an embrace warmer than any human had ever given to me."

"What's that from?" Sam asked quietly.

"The suicide note Potter King the poet wrote before he killed himself with a guillotine." I murmured. "I've never seen a night this pretty."

The car was silent as we drove and after a while, Dean stopped us at an old shack of a house that looked to be vacant. Dean parked the car behind the house, out of view of the driveway and they both got out, quickly gathering supplies from the car.

I looked up at the sky as I shut the door. I just stood there, trying to remember the word for the shiny things that blinked happily down at me.

 _What the hell is she doing?_

 _Like she's never seen the sky before?_

 _She probably can't remember past your stupid voice._

 _This wouldn't be a problem if she'd hung herself at the ward like I told her to._

"You have a favorite?" Dean's voice made the other voices fall silent.

I looked over at him. "A favorite what?"

"Star." He said, loosely gesturing to the sky.

I grinned at him before looked back at the black stretch speckled with white lights. "I couldn't remember what they were called. Stars." I said with a nod. "They're all my favorite."

"C'mon." Dean said, nodding his head towards the house.

I followed him inside where Sam had set up a chair in the middle of a bunch of symbols.

 _Is that a devil's trap?_

 _What? Like we're some low level demons?_

 _Wait, can we be exorcised like that?_

I covered my knees, bending over as all the voices started speaking Latin at the same time. I couldn't hear them over each other and the pain that exploded in my head was almost crippling.

"Clare? Clare! Hey, what's goin' on? What's happening?" Dean asked, coming over to me.

"Latin." I choked, feeling like I was drowning in their chanting. "All of them, all at once."

"Sam!" I barely heard Dean over the chanting. All three of them were talking different words at different speeds, but they slowly came together, chanting as one.

I grabbed at Dean's shoulder, feeling my eyes tear up from the pain. "Kill me."

"I'm not killing you." He told me firmly.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…_ " Sam started.

" _Non sum not immundus. Vos can not exorcizamus mihi._ "

The words came out of my mouth in a voice that was not my own and I reached for Dean, feeling a stirring inside my chest that scared me. "I'm scared."

"Hey, it's alright. Sammy, keep going." Dean told him, holding onto me.

The farther Sam got, the more pain I was in. I felt like my ribs were slowly being pried apart, my insides were on fire, smoke was filling my lungs, making me cough and choke.

"Sam, stop! Stop!" Dean yelled and as soon as Sam went quiet, the pain eased and my knees buckled, sending me to the floor. "Hey, hey. It's okay." Dean told me and I felt so weak, so helpless.

"If you finish…" I spoke, coughing on my words, still being able to feel the smoke. "You'll let them out."

"What do you mean let them out? That's not how it works." Sam asked, coming over to us.

" _Mors_." I told Dean, gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I'm not killing you." Dean told me. "I can save you."

" _She's getting weaker. Why did the tall one stop the exorcism? We were so close. Of all the worthless meat suits to end up in, we get the stupidest doctor on the surface of the planet._ "

I couldn't feel my mouth moving anymore as I fell against Dean.

"Hey, Clare. You gotta keep it together. Pull it together. What'd you say about them getting out? You gotta stay with me." Dean told me, shaking me a little.

My head pounded like a bass drum and every part of me ached and hurt. "Too hard." I told him, not even feeling strong enough to keep my eyes open.

"You're Clarisse Maloney. You are the most influential children's doctor of the 21st century. You did the first ever successful eye transplant on an abused six year old who hadn't been able to see since she was four. You're better than this. You're better than them." Dean told me harshly.

His words kind of floated around my head, but I remembered the name from when he'd said it earlier. Was I a doctor? No, that couldn't be right.

I felt them tug on me from the inside, like they were waiting for Sam to start talking again.

"What's happening?" Sam asked, standing over Dean and I.

" _Nigrum mortem._ " I said, feeling the voices push inside me, waiting to break free.

"Black… black…" Dean mumbled.

"Death. Black Death. Like, like the black plague?" Sam asked, looking between Dean and I.

"Get the computer. Look it up." Dean told Sam, before looking at me. "Clare?"

I looked at him, feeling so weak. It would be so easy to just let go and not have to worry about the voices rattling around in my brain.

"Talk to me. What's goin' on in there?" Dean asked, his hands being the only thing keeping me upright.

"They say you have a pretty meat suit." I mumbled, not feeling strong enough to actually say the words.

"Well, they're not wrong." Dean smiled at me.

I wanted to smile back, but I felt so tired. I wanted to just close my eyes and lay down for the rest of my life, even if that was the next five minutes.

"Hey. C'mon. You're stronger than this, alright? You hear me? So you've got a couple psycho voices rattling around in your brain, telling you to eat other people and kill yourself." Dean said, sounding so nonchalant about it. "But me? I've got to listen to Sam complain every time a motel room gets too hot."

I hadn't meant to, but I cracked a smirk, leaning into him as I choked out a chuckle, my throat feeling raw.

"So that peck you gave me earlier…" Dean trailed off.

"What about it?" I asked him, resting my forehead on his shoulder.

"That all I get?" He asked, smirking down at me.

"My organs are trying to boil themselves inside my body and you wanna make out?" I asked roughly, not moving from where I leaned on his shoulder.

"Not right now, obviously. Unless you're down for that kinda thing." He said, looking down at me like he thought for some reason I might say 'sure'.

"Alright, got it." Sam said, bringing his laptop over to us. "The Black Death or Black Plague came in three different strains; Bubonic, Pneumonic, and Septicemic. The first report of the Black Death has been documented back to 1343 along the Silk Road. There hasn't been a cause of plague in the United States since 1993."

"Okay, but how do we get it out of her?" Dean asked harshly.

"Nothing I can find talks about the plagues as people or things, it's just talked about as a virus, a contagion." Sam said, looking frantic.

"Holy water?" Dean asked.

"It'll just burn her skin, right? It's not going to get them out of her." Sam spoke, typing away on his laptop.

"Kill me." I begged Dean, feeling so weak as I looked up at him.

"We're not killing you." He told me sternly.

"If I die, maybe they die too." I told him.

"And maybe that's how they get let back out into the world. We can't risk it. No." Dean told me and I knew it wouldn't be worth anything to press the issue. "Sammy?" He asked, looking over at his brother.

"Uh… alright, okay. So there's a legend dating back to the 1600's. It says that the only way they could get rid of the Black Death was by having a priest cleanse the soul of the person who had it while…" Sam cut off.

"While what?" Dean barked.

"While the victim laid over the grave of a recently deceased victim of the illness. It was said that the disease would leave the body of the living host and inhabit the dead host buried in the ground." Sam said, going a little pale.

I choked out a chuckle, a puff of smoke leaving my mouth. The smoke filling my lungs and roasting my organs was getting worse.

"Is she…" Sam started, but stopped quickly like he didn't even know how to ask the question.

Dean set his hand on my forehead. "She's burning up. They're burning her from the inside out."

"Why won't she just die? Stupid Winchesters are ruining our escape plan. Do you think they know what we are yet? Is she passing out yet?"

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

"Clare, c'mon. Reel it in. You can do this. We're gonna save you." Dean told me, but I didn't know if he could hear the frantic edge his own voice took on, because I did.

"Alright, I got an idea. C'mon." Sam said, quickly closing his computer and helping me stand. I tried to take a step, but I couldn't hold myself up, lurching forward. Both men caught me before I could get far.

Dean decided to would be better to pick me up and Sam helped get me into the back seat. "Where are we going?" Dean asked, peeling out of the driveway.

"Left towards the cemetery. Somebody died last week from an infected flea bite. The coroner couldn't find the exact reason for the death, but fleas, prairie dogs, and ferrets have been known to be carriers for plague type viruses. It's the only thing we've got to go on." Sam told Dean.

"They smell so good. I can't wait to eat them. She's getting weaker. If only the Winchester hadn't stopped talking, we'd already be free."

I whimpered as the heat in my stomach increased.

"Hey, Clare? It's gonna be alright, okay? We're gonna fix you. Just hang on." Dean said, holding his hand out behind the seat. I weakly reached for it, barely able to feel his touch. "She's on fire." Dean said, looking over at Sam.

I was too weak to get out of the car when we got the cemetery, but Dean carried me with Sam leading the way, searching for fresh dirt. By the time they found it, I could hardly keep my eyes open. I knew Dean was holding me, but my skin felt like it was being burnt off me. I felt like smoke filled my lungs and I might never get another clean breath again.

The only reason I knew Dean set me down was because when I felt like I could open my eyes, there was stars and tree tops above me. A wisp of smoke left my mouth as I struggled to keep myself holding on.

 _She's so close to dying._

 _Why won't she just let go already?_

 _She hasn't fought this hard over anything since we took over!_

 _I need to eat someone!_

I turned my head. I couldn't hear Sam, although I could see his lips moving as he read out of a book, glancing up at me every once in a while. Dean watched with concern on his features, his eyes flittering back and forth between me and the book Sam was reading out of.

I didn't know what the word was, but when Sam said it, pain exploded in my chest, making me gasp. The voices went silent as I dug my fingers into the dirt below me.

"Sam!" Dean's voice echoed through my head.

 _What the hell is he doing?_

 _They figured it out!_

 _They know what we are?_

 _It hurts!_

"No, don't… don't stop." I choked, looking over at them. It hurt; it hurt so badly I could barely see. But it wasn't the same kind of pain as I had felt earlier. It was working. They were going away.

My lungs filled with smoke so much that I couldn't help but choke it out, my blood boiled and surged through my body, my fingers buried in the dirt, trying to brace my body.

I didn't hear Sam's words, but I could feel them coursing through me like poison, seeping into my bones and flooding my system. My body shook, resisting Sam's chant. My bones felt like they were all being shattered simultaneously and my vision went black.

I could hear my own scream in my ears, but it was quieted, as if I was hearing a scream from a few hundred yards away.

And then I stopped moving. The pain ebbed and slowly sank away. I could feel my head loll to the side. Both men were moving towards me, but my eyes slipped closed, their words fallen on deaf ears.

* * *

I was being chased around a forest by three voices, all bodiless, all chanting for me to kill myself. No matter where I turned, they followed, a step behind me the whole way. I charged through the trees, abruptly stopping before the ground dropped away to a cliff side, darkness not allowing me to see the bottom.

I turned and the three voices looked like severed heads, floating in ghastly pale light.

 _Kill yourself._

 _Just jump._

 _There's no one to miss you._

 _Would you just die?!_

And they charged me, making me stumble backwards off the cliff, screaming and reaching for something to catch me.

I gasped, sitting up in a hospital bed. The heart monitor at my side was surging and I franticly looked around for the voices, the severed heads taunting me.

Instead, I found two men clad in jeans and plaid, moving to stand up from the chairs at the foot of the bed.

"Hey, it's okay. You're alright." The shorter one said to me, moving close.

I wanted to retract from him. Who was he? Why was he sitting in my hospital room? Why was I in the hospital? But I stopped myself. Something in his eyes held a kind of tenderness, a kind of concern I had seen before.

I looked from him to the taller man, standing back a little bit with his hands in his pockets, watching me. Another glance at the shorter man and I could see a familiarity of some sort.

"I… I know you, don't I?" I asked, looking at the taller one again.

"You don't remember us?" The tall one asked.

"If she doesn't remember us, let's just get out of here." The shorter one said quietly to the tall one.

I gasped, a bank full of memories washing over me like a tidal wave.

The psyche ward.

Breaking out.

The voices.

The graveyard.

The pain.

"Dean." The word came out on the last breath from my lungs, a hopeless kind of plea.

He turned suddenly, not sure what to do.

"Sam." I remembered their names, I remembered them saving me. And then I paused, listening for another voice inside my head, a dull echo to tell me they were mumbling to themselves. But only silence. I looked back up at them in awe.

"Can you hear them?" Dean asked quietly, moving back closer to me.

I shook my head, looking between the two again. "You… got rid of them?"

"Well it wasn't easy." Dean said, a look of regret crossing his features.

"You went into cardiac arrest. You almost died." Sam said, ducking his head a little.

My eyes welled up, a slight string from the sudden water. "Oh my god, you got rid of them." I said, moving my hand to cover my face.

Dean smirked. "Well, you did most of it. We just read some stuff."

"Do you remember who you are?" Sam asked, watching me still.

I thought about it for a moment. "I remember Dean calling me Clare." I said, looking over at him. "I remember… I remember being confused the first time they put me in psyche. I don't… I don't remember anything before that."

Dean smirked. "Kinda figured you'd say that." He said, pulling a newspaper out of his coat. "It's a couple days old, you were out for a while. But this might help."

I took the paper from him and opened the front page. It was a picture of a woman in a hospital bed. The headline read 'Missing Doctor Found in Cemetery; Rituals to Blame'. "Doctor Clarisse Maloney was found Thursday night in Johnston County cemetery after two men found her laying on a grave, bleeding from the ears. The men were allegedly taking a walk to see their recently deceased cousin when they discovered Doctor Maloney unconscious on the grave site. Upon calling the paramedics, Maloney was found to have gone into cardiac arrest. Rituals are suspected to be a part of it, but nothing has been confirmed or denied yet." I read quietly.

"Apparently, you're a very well-known children's doctor from New York." Sam told me.

I looked at the location of the paper. "Johnston, Arizona?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah, you're a long way from home." Dean told me.

I looked up at him, feeling so lost. I had no idea who this Doctor Maloney was; I couldn't even remember if I'd ever been to New York. I ducked my head, trying desperately to remember anything before the voices echoed in my head.

"Hey…" Dean said, making me look up at him. "I know it's hard, but you'll get back it the swing of things."

I glanced at the newspaper in my lap. The woman in the bed on the front page was supposed to be me, but here I was, not even sure who I was. "I guess… I guess this would be a perfect time to start over if I wanted." I mumbled.

Dean smirked. "You can be anybody you want to be. And hey, when you figure it out, let me know." He told me, handing me a business card.

I grinned at the card that read Gunnar Nelson, FBI. "Like, Gunnar Nelson of the Nelson Brothers?"

Dean grinned, ducking his head sheepishly before looking back at me. "Well… not a lot of people get that, so I can sneak by with it."

"You guys were great. Thank you for saving me." I told him, taking his hand to try to relay to him what it meant to me. I looked at Sam, giving him the same look. I needed them to know how grateful I was.

They nodded, suddenly looking awkward. "Let us know how everything goes." Sam told me.

"Thank you." I said again as they moved towards the door. Dean slapped Sam on the back and I wondered if that was their 'job well done' salute to each other.

* * *

"Doctor Maloney?"

I looked up from the Cherrywood desk to see Sarah, my secretary, standing in the doorway. "Yes Sarah?"

"Ma'am, there's an Agent Nelson from the FBI in the lobby. He doesn't have an appointment, but he says it's an emergency." She told me, looking concerned.

I couldn't help the little smirk that crossed my face as I pushed away from the desk and moved out of the office. I didn't have any more clients for the rest of the day, just conference calls. I hadn't ever expected to see him again, but Dean Winchester stood in my lobby, pointlessly flipping through a Men's Health magazine.

He looked up and paused, letting out a low whistle when he saw me. "Well hello Doc."

"Agent Nelson." I said, folding my hands together in front of me.

"Well, you hadn't called me back and I wanted to come check on you, make sure you were doing alright." He told me, throwing down the magazine and moving to put his hands in his pockets.

"Sarah told me you had an emergency." I told him with a smile.

"Yep. I'm starving and god knows I try like hell to stay out of New York, so I have no idea where a good burger joint is." He told me, throwing his thumb over his shoulder much the same way I remembered him doing while I was in the psyche ward.

"Burgers, huh?" I smirked.

He grinned while nodding his head. "Maybe pie too."

"Sarah," I called over my shoulder. "Please inform the chair members I've been called out for an urgent meeting with a Federal agent."

"FBI, specifically." Dean told Sarah with a nod.

"Would it make you feel better to show her your badge?" I asked.

"Keep that up and you don't get any pie." Dean told me, pointing a finger at me before nodding his head down the hall to his right.

"Ma'am? What about the conference calls?" Sarah spoke.

"Like she said, urgent government business." Dean told my secretary, taking my hand and pulling my down the hall. "You look good when you're not covered in dirt and blood."

"You look even better out of flannel." I told him quietly.

He smirked, pushing the button on the elevator. We stepped in when it opened and when it closed, he pulled me close, pressing his lips tightly to mine.

I gave him a questioning look, which just caused him to smirk.

"I seem to remember that we never made out." He told me plainly.

"Well, we'll just have to fix that." I told him, pulling him roughly towards me to give him another deep kiss.


End file.
